


you found me in the dark (and lit me up)

by Astrals (Evoxine)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-War, Recovery, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Astrals
Summary: Months after the war has ended, Dimitri is still busy picking up the pieces. Some days are easier, some days not so much, but through it all, Byleth remains by his side.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82





	you found me in the dark (and lit me up)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for My Beloved Zine; it's been such a pleasure ♡

For once, it’s not the cold that wakes Byleth up. Instead, it’s the knowledge that he’s in bed alone that has him stirring awake. Sleep clings to him like a lost child, desperate for attention, but he shakes it off with the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes. Next to him, the sheets are cool and the pillow is still fluffed – Dimitri must have gotten out of bed as soon as Byleth fell asleep. 

Outside, the sun has barely begun its sluggish ascent into the sky, casting a wash of blue over the chilled land of Fhirdiad. With the aid of flickering candlelight and kept warm by one of Dimitri’s many coats, Byleth makes his way out of their chambers and down the hall to their personal study. 

He finds his King hunched over the table, hair swept up into a messy knot to keep the strands out of his face as he scribbles away. Even now, dressed in nothing but his sleeping tunic and eyes ringed with shadows, Byleth thinks Dimitri carries a certain grace to him, regal and gentle. 

Dimitri looks up when he enters and Byleth sees the guilt manifest, the head of that familiar monster rearing and getting ready to strike. He refuses to give it the satisfaction – it has already taken enough from them. 

“Hey.” Stepping inside, Byleth shuts the door behind himself and crosses the room in a few strides. The candle in his hand finds a perch to rest on. “Couldn’t sleep?”

When he rounds the table, Dimitri exhales heavily and sets his quill down. The line of tension in the set of his shoulders is evident, and Byleth fights the sudden itch to summon the best healers in the Kingdom to tend to his betrothed. He knows that magic will not help, however, and so he settles for stepping close, a hand curling around the sharp line of Dimitri’s jaw. 

In the warm light, the skin of Dimitri’s scarred eye shines. It shines now as he leans into the touch, cheek coming to rest against Byleth’s sternum as some of the tension starts to bleed out of him. Byleth simply stands by Dimitri’s chair, a hand cradling his love’s head as the other hand frees the tie keeping soft blond hair in place. 

At the first pull of his fingers through the strands, Byleth feels a shudder ripple through Dimitri’s frame. 

“Will you come back to bed?” 

“Sleep does not come easy,” Dimitri mumbles. His voice is rough from lack of use and moisture. 

Byleth thumbs at the swell of Dimitri’s bottom lip, the skin slightly cracked. “Just lie with me. We don’t have to sleep; the sun is rising, regardless.”

He waits patiently while Dimitri mulls it over, then fights and fails to hide his smile when Dimitri eventually agrees. A wave of his hand has all the flames flickering out, save for the one he’d brought, and it’s with Dimitri at his side that Byleth heads back to bed. 

Dimitri falls asleep in seconds, with his head tucked under Byleth’s chin and the furs pulled up to his shoulders. As he lies there, wide awake, Byleth listens to the steady breaths of the man he loves and sends a prayer up to the gods that things will get easier. The weight of Dimitri’s arm around his middle is more than enough to ground him, and Byleth focuses on that as he holds him close.

Later, when the sun is high in the sky and the city has risen, Dedue enters to see Fódlan’s King and Archbishop snoozing, heads bent towards each other as they slumber on. They look so peaceful, and Dedue doesn’t have the heart to wake them up despite their packed schedules. He tiptoes back out and instructs the guards by the main doors to keep visitors out until the couple has woken. Perhaps he should personally whip up their breakfast today, he thinks. 

  
It has been months, perhaps even a year, since the end of the war and there are just so many things that Dimitri has to tend to. Countless areas throughout Fódlan still require vast reparations which will, in turn, take a huge toll on the limited resources available, and not to mention the fact that most of the annexed Adrestrian territories are still resisting Faerghus’ rule. But neither of those are what keeps Dimitri up at night. 

For when he closes his eyes, he sees death. Not always, but often enough. He sees rivers of red, hollowed faces and festering flesh. The people they have to bury number in the thousands, many dead by his own two hands. Sometimes, he’ll scrub at his hands with soap until the skin is red and tender, and every fibre in his being will scream at him to avoid touching Byleth with his bare hands. After all, he shouldn’t taint someone so kind, so patient, so perfect.

But Byleth always seems to know whenever that particular train of thought is running through his mind. Oftentimes, Dimitri will find himself led away from wherever he happens to be, Byleth’s touch achingly loving on his dirtied skin, until they find a private space where Byleth will press close, arguably too close. 

Today, Byleth leads him to the stables. Upon their entrance, the stablehands take their leave, bowing low, and Byleth graces them all with a smile. Behind them, Sylvain’s horse snorts and turns back to its trough of food. 

“Look at me,” Byleth says, voice soft. Dimitri would recognise his voice anywhere. “I love you.”

For a while, there they simply stand, with Byleth cupping Dimitri’s face between his hands, their foreheads together and noses brushing, sharing the same air. 

“I know not what goes through your mind, but whatever it is, I will always want you.”

Dimitri cannot help the flinch that those words elicit. “I’m not –”

“But you are,” Byleth interjects. “You are good, Dimitri. You are wonderful. Have you known me to lie?”

The multifaceted colour of Byleth’s eyes shimmer in the light and Dimitri is helpless under their weight. “No, my love, I have not.”

“No man is without mistakes, Dimitri. The only difference between a man and a good man is what he decides to do with that knowledge.” He closes the minuscule distance between them to brush their lips together, and Dimitri gives in, settling a hand on the small of Byleth’s back. 

“I love you,” Byleth repeats. “Everything about you.” He threads their fingers together, skin on skin, and Dimitri feels the beginnings of a smile playing along his lips.

Then, Sylvain’s horse sneezes and sends them jumping a mile into the air. 

  
Once every few months, the three classes meet. Byleth’s students travel from across vast distances to arrive at Fhirdiad’s castle, with wyverns, pegasi, and horses trickling in until the stables are full and the Great Hall is buzzing with conversation. 

Always excited to see everyone and listen to what has changed and developed during their time apart, Byleth looks forward to these meetings. He knows, however, that Dimitri does not share his sentiments, and has always managed to find an excuse to avoid the gatherings (along with Claude and Hilda, who are off gallivanting somewhere in the world, although they never fail to send letters). 

Byleth also knows that Dimitri is scared – scared of how his former classmates, current comrades, and longtime friends view him as a result of his role in the war. A role that had him ultimately facing his stepsister, weapons drawn and each backed by a determination to protect what they believed in. A role that saw him taking her life, a life that many of his friends mourned. 

If Hubert was alive, Dimitri once said under the blanket of night, the man would stop at nothing to have his head on a silver platter. Perhaps that might be true, Byleth had replied, but Hubert’s loyalties will always lie with Edelgard out of sheer devotion, regardless of his own feelings or opinions.

Byleth doesn’t quite know how to tell Dimitri that their friends have long since forgiven him, because they understand that war brings out the impossible, and decisions that overlook the wants and desires of the individual must be made. Everyone knows just how much Dimitri has sacrificed for his people. 

So when Dimitri shows up, it takes them all by surprise. 

Caspar bounds into the Hall (with Lindhardt trailing after him, as per usual) and makes a beeline for where Dimitri is standing towards the back of the room, a futile attempt at hiding himself in the shadows. Byleth watches it all unfold from his seat at the table, sandwiched by Ingrid and Petra as they converse around him. 

“Good day, my liege!” Dimitri blinks at him, clearly unsettled by the man’s exuberance. “Just lettin’ you know that transport of minerals from Kleiman to Arianrhod has started, so restorations can finally continue soon.”

Caspar doesn’t wait for Dimitri’s response, simply giving the King a friendly smack to the bicep before he runs away to his next target. Lorenz, judging by his trajectory. The expression on Dimitri’s face is one of genuine befuddlement and Byleth can’t help but chuckle to himself. 

New voices trickle inside and Byleth turns to see Marianne walking in with her arm looped around the crook of Mercedes’ elbow. The ladies pause in their conversation to grace Dimitri with a bow, and Marianne chirps out a soft, “Happy to see you, Your Majesty. You look well and healthy.”

Colour blooms in spots over Dimitri’s cheeks, and when Byleth smiles this time, Ingrid catches sight of it. She follows Byleth’s line of sight and hums, contemplative. 

“How is he, Professor?”

Byleth doesn’t quite know why, but his former students still insist on addressing him by his former title. But he’s happy to allow it – it’s a nod to their beginnings, and that’s something he will always treasure.

“Getting there, I think. Slowly, but it’s still progress.”

Ingrid nods. “When I was training a group of pegasus knights just last week, I saw him down on the ground watching and he waved up at me. During a brief second or two, he looked so much like his younger self, before we enrolled at the Monastery.” She looks down at her lap, where her fingers have knotted together. “Sometimes, I think back to how things were like before the war and… gosh, we were truly so young. In more ways than one.”

She falls silent, eyes still on Dimitri. They see Lysithea approach, and they watch as she sneakily slips several rare candies into his palm, her tiny hand swallowed up by Dimitri’s. They're gifted with the sight of Dimitri grinning down at her, an easy, boyish joy that graces his face with warmth. He pockets the candies, Lysithea winks, and the two of them end their wordless conversation with a fist bump. 

“Growing up, he was taught that placing everything else ahead of his own happiness and well-being is the right thing to do.” Ingrid turns to Byleth, her usually firm gaze soft. “I'm glad he has you, Professor. It teaches him that it's okay to be selfish once in a while.”

With that said, she rises from her seat and strides over to where Felix is seconds away from potentially beheading Sylvain – his face is beet red and Sylvain looks exceptionally smug. It's impressive, Ingrid’s sixth sense for stopping the nonsense that her best friends have a tendency to get into. 

Turning away from the trio, Byleth overhears Raphael's comment on his stomach rumbling and decides that it's due time for dinner to start. 

Dimitri sees him approach and Byleth doesn't miss the way his eye crinkles with fondness. 

“Hey. Enjoying yourself?”

A casual lift of a shoulder, then Dimitri reaches out to pull Byleth close. Years later and the way he fits so nicely into Dimitri's side still sends his heart thumping. 

“It's…nice,” Dimitri admits eventually, “seeing everyone again.”

“They've missed you.” 

Byleth doesn't give Dimitri a chance to respond, however, because he knows that Dimitri will try to brush that statement off. Instead, he pats the pocket where Lysithea’s candies are hiding in and says, “Don't finish all of these at once, you hear? I’m positive it took her a lot of effort to find them.”

When Dimitri chuckles, Byleth takes his hand in his own and leads him over to the table. There's no resistance, no hesitation, and Byleth is happy – it shows, too, if the way Dimitri steps closer and presses his lips to the crown of Byleth's head is any indication. 

“Let's eat.”

Byleth has been away for the better part of the month, spending some much needed time down at Garreg Mach to oversee the restorations of the Church headquarters, as well as to meet with several clergy members in charge of re-opening the Southern Church. 

It’s been a tiring trip and Byleth is in dire need of some familiar warmth and comfort. As soon as he enters the castle’s main gates, he dismounts from his steed and hands the reins over to Cyril, calling out his thanks before he speeds off towards his chambers. 

Byleth opens the doors to see Dimitri stepping out of the bathroom, one towel slung low on his hips as another rubs through golden strands. Flickering candlelight has the scars on his chest standing out stark and harsh, the puckered skin serving as a reminder of all he’s been through. 

As always, Byleth thinks he’s beautiful. 

Dimitri looks up when he hears the door shut and the smile that spreads across his face is one of such genuine happiness that it has a wave of emotion crashing down over Byleth’s head. Sometimes, he still can’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that this man loves him.

“Welcome home,” says Dimitri, voice as soft as ever. 

Byleth lets his cloak drop from around his shoulders. As it falls to the ground in a whisper of fabric, he crosses the room in a few strides and lets Dimitri wrap him up in those strong arms. 

He breathes in Dimitri’s familiar scent, cheek pillowed on warm skin. 

“I’ve missed you.”

“As have I, my love.”

A hand skates up the expanse of Byleth’s back to fit around his jaw, and it’s with his heart in his throat that he accepts Dimitri’s kiss. 

Later, after Byleth has washed up and changed into soft linen, he joins Dimitri by the window. Wordlessly, Dimitri tucks him into his side, his eyes still trained on a certain spot outside, down at the quiet castle grounds. 

“I spent a lot of time thinking while you were gone,” Dimitri says eventually. When he doesn’t continue, Byleth glances up at him and is surprised to see Dimitri looking right back. Dimitri smiles, a slight quirk of his mouth, and goes on to say, “And I just really want to thank you.”

Byleth doesn’t ask why. He thinks he knows why. 

“The fact that you love me is thanks enough,” he starts to say, only for Dimitri to shake his head before he can even finish his sentence. 

“No, I need you to know that I’m grateful for everything you have done for me. People can love someone and not appreciate them – you deserve more than that.”

With that, Dimitri backs away from the window and tugs Byleth along, free hand reaching out to let the drapes loose. They fall shut and their room loses the moonlight’s illumination, but Byleth can still see Dimitri’s features as clear as day. 

“You’ve never given up on me, not back when you were my professor, not back when you were my ally, and not now when you are my – my life.” 

Byleth kisses the palm of Dimitri’s hand, right over a scar caused by a dagger laced with poison. He is the reason Dimitri had gotten the scar in the first place, too preoccupied with battling several wyverns to notice an assassin sneaking up on him. But Dimitri did. 

“You see the good in me. Always, even when I can’t. I want to get better, so I can see what you see when you look at me. I promise I’ll be more, Byleth.”

A beat, then Byleth trails his fingers down the line of Dimitri’s jaw. “How could you be more when you are already everything?” He smiles, fingertips dancing along Dimitri’s bottom lip. “Instead, just promise me that you’ll be happy.”

An arm wraps around his waist and another hooks under the bend of his knees, then Byleth finds himself in Dimitri’s arms, feet nearly kicking a vase of fresh flowers off the mantlepiece. He gets a kiss to the forehead and Byleth marvels at the candlelight that flickers brightly in Dimitri’s azure eyes. 

Dimitri strides over to their bed with ease, as if Byleth weighs nothing more than a pegasus’ feather. He deposits him onto the covers with something akin to reverence and Byleth has the sudden urge to ask for their wedding ceremony to be held first thing the next morning. 

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @_seiros :)
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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